


48 06 18

by E_Salvatore



Series: Tagged: TBTP Tumblr Fics [17]
Category: The Black Tapes Podcast
Genre: F/M, Tumblr ficlet, if it's pointless and plotless fic you're looking for, step right up my lovelies!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-18
Updated: 2016-04-18
Packaged: 2018-06-03 01:15:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,653
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6590722
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/E_Salvatore/pseuds/E_Salvatore
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt-fill ficlets for:</p><p>48. "Boo."<br/>06. "Is there a reason you're naked in my bed?"<br/>18. "This is without a doubt the stupidest plan you've ever had. Of course I'm in."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 48\. "Boo."

Alex’s favorite thing about Strand’s voice is probably how persuasive it can get when he wants it to be, the way his eyes glimmer with just a hint of mischief as he tilts his head down, brushes the shell of her ear with his lips, whispers a request they both know she’ll agree to.

Her least favorite thing about Strand’s voice is _definitely_ how persuasive it can get when he wants it to be, the way his eyes flash with triumph when he tires of their bickering and decides to pull out this old trick, nuzzles the particularly sensitive spot of skin where her jawline meets her ear, tells her “it’s just a movie, Alex. Besides, I’ll be here the whole time.”

So here they are on a stormy Thursday night, watching her least-favorite movie of all time.

The Exorcist.

“Why the hell did I let you talk me into this?” Alex’s voice is muffled by Strand’s shirt, but the laugh that rumbles in his chest lets her know he’s picked up on her irritation loud and clear. She _could_ glare at him for laughing at her, but that would mean looking up from where she’s pressed her face against his shoulder and like _hell_ is she about to look up just as the exorcism scene starts.

“You know you’re just making it worse,” He dutifully runs a comforting hand up and down her back. “I wouldn’t be surprised if that overactive imagination of yours is supplying you with images ten times worse than what’s actually on the screen right now.”

Of course, _now_ that he’s mentioned it, her mind starts to conjure up possible scenarios to go with the awful sounds blaring from the TV. “Screw you,” She mutters with a huff, resolutely keeping her face buried in his shoulder.

Strand’s laughter jostles her, but he seems to take pity on her and lets the rest of the scene play out without attempting to coax her out from her hiding place. How he manages to keep his heartbeat steady she has no idea (things can scare you even if you don’t believe in them, right? How the hell is he so unaffected by this?), but the even rise and fall of his chest somehow manages to soothe her into an almost-calm state, like the steady glide of a rocking chair lulling her to sleep as a lullaby (or screams and shrieks and growls, in this case) fades into nothing more than background sound.

The sudden silence is jarring.

Is it over? She almost doesn’t want to look up to check, but she figures she should probably make some attempt to salvage what’s left of her dignity now that the worst of it has passed.

_Okay, Alex. Deep breaths. Look up at the count of three. Here we go. One… two… th-_

“Boo.”

What follows is a flurry of her shrieking and jumping up like a startled cat, the force of her movement sending her halfway across the couch and then _off_ the couch, resulting in an utterly ungraceful heap of limbs and twisted tee-shirt and heaving chest.

“What the _fuck_ , Richard?!” She demands, glaring at him from her spot on the ground.

His grin seems too wide for his face as he chokes down his laughter, his shoulders shaking with restraint. “What? All I said was-” He has the remote in one hand, and a quick glance at the TV reveals a paused screen. He’d done this _on purpose_!

Alex gets to her feet with a huff. “It’s not _what_ you said; it’s _when_ you said it, and you know perfectly well.” She snaps, struggling not to react to the pure glee written on his face. Since when has Strand been one to joke around like this?

That’s when she remembers that this is the man who has hundreds of white VHS cases lined up in his office, almost all of them bearing bad puns derived from horror movies as titles.

Oh, God. Is _this_ what she has to look forward to whenever they sit down to watch horror movies? Her fragile state of mind can’t take it. Neither can her poor heart.

“That’s it,” She declares, turning her back to him as she makes for the light switch. “This is the last time I’m letting you talk me into something like this.”

She doesn’t turn back to look at him once the lights are on, but her mind conjures up a crystal-clear image of the shit-eating grin he must have on his face as he calls after her, “But what about the sequel?”

Ghosts, demons and a skeptic with a horrible sense of humor.

How – and _why_ – is this her life?


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 6\. "Is there a reason you're naked in my bed?"

Finding Alex in his apartment one evening doesn’t come as much of a surprise (Ruby really is more competent than anyone gives her credit for; _Alex switched flights, flying in this afternoon_ had been scribbled on the Post-It he’d found on his computer screen after lunch) but finding her in his bedroom certainly gives him pause.

In his bedroom, in his _bed_ , on top of the sheets and-

“Is there a reason you’re naked in my bed?”

Alex doesn’t even flinch; either she heard him coming in, or she’s too drowsy to react to his presence. “Your AC’s kaput.”

“Is it now?” That does explain the suffocating _weight_ of the air, heat coiling around him like a great big snake and choking the air out of his lungs. Still – that’s not much of an answer. “So you’re here because…”

“Because this is the only room with a ceiling fan,” Alex raises her hand and lazily points at the fan in question, her movements sluggish and half-hearted. She’s left it on the lowest speed, he notes. Probably a wise decision on her part, as the old thing creaks and shakes quite alarmingly on any other setting. It had come with the apartment when he’d purchased the unit years ago, and he’s never had much use for a fan – probably would have gotten rid of it if he’d deemed it worth the trouble – so he’d let it be, creaking and shaking and all. That might be an issue if he can’t get someone to fix the AC by the end of the day, given that they’re currently going through a heat wave.

Hopefully the temperature will drop by nightfall. But until then, the slow rotations of the fan aren’t going to do much to ward off the heat. He sits down on the edge of his bed, putting himself within Alex’s line of sight.

“Hello,” She finally greets him with a smile. “How was work?”

“The same,” Alex’s expressive features are usually enough to hold his attention even without his permission, but today he takes extra care to focus on her face and only her face. It’s too hot to entertain even the idea of joining her in bed, despite her current state. Her cheeks are flushed from the heat, and a momentary lapse in self-restraint offers him an idea of just how far down the red tint has traveled. “How was your flight?” He asks, quickly snapping his eyes back up to hers.

Alex shrugs. “The same,” She parrots. If she’s taken note of his internal struggle (and she most definitely has, because her eyes are gleaming with poorly-concealed amusement and a smirk tugs at her lips), at least she has the grace to make no mention of his wandering eyes.

“Good,” He says, getting to his feet. “That’s… good.”

Alex holds a hand out and he obligingly pulls her up, busying himself with his phone while she roots around for her discarded clothes. He finds a message from the super, letting residents know that the AC should be back to normal by tonight. Alex lets out a little “hooray!” when he passes the message along.

“Do you want to go out for dinner?” He suggests. “Things here will probably be back to normal by the time we get back.”

“I think you’ve got this all wrong, Doctor Strand,” Alex’s voice is light and teasing, as if she’s on the verge of laughter and edging closer to the brink with every word; it brings an automatic smile to his lips. “You’re supposed to ask me out _before_ I end up naked in your bed.”

“And you, Miss Reagan,” He retorts, “were supposed to ask me out before you started unearthing all of my deepest, darkest secrets.”

“Oh, right,” She grins, tapping a finger against her lip in mock-contemplation. “And everyone knows you don’t go ghost-hunting until, what, the seventh date?”

“At least,” He agrees with a solemn nod.

“Wow,” Alex mirrors his expression, wiping the grin from her face in favor of adopting a serious mask. “We’ve really messed up.”

They manage to hold eye contact for all of ten seconds before she starts laughing and he allows himself a wide smile. 

“Come on,” Alex says, her voice warm with mirth. She takes his hand in hers and leads him out of the room, stopping only to pick up her discarded bag by the foot of the bed. “Let’s get out of here before I strip again.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

She turns around to shoot him a delighted look of surprise, and this time her cheeks are red with something other than the heat.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 18\. "This is without a doubt the stupidest plan you've ever had. Of course I'm in."

“This is, without a doubt, the _stupidest_ plan you’ve ever had.”

“C’mon, Nic,” Alex frowns. “Don’t be a drama queen.”

Nic crosses his arms and levels his very best ‘disapproving big brother’ look at her (…not that it’s ever worked, what with him being two months younger than her and all). “You’re talking about invading his privacy! I thought we were over this.”

“Invading his-” Alex echoes incredulously. “Seriously? It’s not like I’m breaking into his apartment or anything-”

“Only because his apartment is your apartment,” Nic mutters.

“I’m just… going to tidy up his things. And if that involves, you know, organizing the stuff in his nightstand and his half of the closet, _and_ if I just so happen to find, oh, I don’t know, incriminating evidence-”

“Not exactly what most women would call an engagement ring.”

“ _Hypothetical_ engagement ring,” Alex amends reflexively. “I’m still not completely convinced that Ruby isn’t playing some sort of prank on me.” But the younger woman has somewhat warmed up to her in the three years since they first met, and Ruby doesn’t strike her as the kind to pull this kind of stunt, anyway. Maybe she’s just confused? Strand’s not exactly the most straightforward guy around, and it’s a common occurrence for him to say one thing and for his assistant to interpret it as another thing entirely.

“You’re convinced enough to go through his things while he’s away,” Nic points out. “ _And_ rope me into it.”

But Ruby’s pretty sure she’s got it right this time. According to her, Strand has been holding onto the ring for four months; he’s balled up and tossed out countless scribbled attempts at a proposal, even initiated a good handful of heart-to-hearts with Ruby, asking her if someone like him should even consider settling down again at his age, given his career and his past and his life… It’s no wonder that even his usually discreet assistant has grown frustrated enough to reach out to Alex herself and beg the woman to put her boss out of his misery.

If Strand isn’t going to make the first move… well, _someone_ has to. And that someone, it seems, will be Alex – just as it always has been in their relationship.

“Never mind,” Alex sighs. “I shouldn’t have dragged you into this. Forget it; I’ll go on my own. I’ll see you tomorrow?”

Nic frowns. “Hey, hold up. I didn’t say I wasn’t coming with.”

The thing is, Alex is almost as bad as Strand. Ruby first brought up the ring six weeks ago – and even then, she’d reached out to Nic first, hoping to salvage something out of this mess without ruining the surprise for Alex. Between the two of them – Alex’s best friend and the closest thing Strand has to a confidante – they should’ve been able to pull this off.

Neither had accounted for Alex being her nosy self and questioning the sudden increase in communication between Nic and Ruby, and the latter had certainly not known to account for the former’s complete inability to keep secrets from Alex. Nic hadn’t just let the cat out of the bag; he’d pretty much coaxed the kitten into his arms and promptly deposited it in Alex’s lap.

Then came two weeks of _nothing_ , as Alex dismissively brushed off the ridiculous notion of Strand wanting to propose and effectively declared the matter off-limits. It was only after a few more failed attempts (and increasingly odd behavior) on Strand’s part that she had begrudgingly turned to Nic and Ruby and conceded that they might be onto something.

After four weeks of back and forth, watching Alex slowly accept the idea that marriage might be something the both of them want and Strand might’ve actually beaten her to a milestone in their relationship just this once (or tried to, at least), Nic isn’t about to let her go into this alone and chicken out at the last minute.

“Don’t get me wrong,” Nic says when Alex cocks her head to the side in a silent question. “This is – without a doubt – the stupidest plan you’ve ever had,” He reiterates teasingly, exaggeratedly, as if this isn’t the very same Alex Reagan who once thought it was a good idea to spend her vacation in an isolated cabin and then go on a hunt for the local ghost without alerting anyone to her plans. But this is also the very same Alex Reagan he’s known all his life, his best friend and partner-in-crime.

“Of course I’m in.”

And that is how Nic Silver finds himself rooting through the personal belongings of one Doctor Richard Strand, the fourth (possibly third) most intimidating person he’s ever known.

The things you do for your best friend.

* * *

Strand knows perfectly well that Alex left this afternoon to chase down a lead in New York, but he finds himself calling out for her anyway when he finally gets home after a three-day trip back to Chicago. 

The apartment is clearly devoid of any other presence save his own, but at least she’s left him a note on the kitchen counter.

Odd. Alex isn’t usually the kind to leave notes.

_Countless drafts of a romantic speech, Google searches for romantic spots_ and _a carefully hidden piece of jewelry? I_ might _be seeing a pattern where there is none, but something tells me this is not just your average case of apophenia, Doctor Strand._

He’s so amused by her little inside joke that it takes a good while for the actual content of the note to sink in.

“But how-”

He sighs. “Ruby.” She _had_ threatened to take things into her own hands after the fourth time he’d asked her to cancel a dinner reservation he had asked her to make weeks in advance.

Trust Alex to play detective and find all of his painstakingly hidden clues. He re-reads the letter for clues of his own, tracing her slanted, cramped penmanship with a finger. It’s only then that he feels the bumps in the paper, like an indent left behind when you press down a little too hard with a ballpoint pen… the way Alex does when she’s angry or frustrated or so nervous her hands shake, so nervous her handwriting comes out a little illegible and she’s forced to write over it more forcefully to give her words defined lines and dots.

There’s an odd feeling in his stomach as he flips the paper over, and he knows better than to chalk it up to hunger.

_By the way:_

_YES!!!_

**Author's Note:**

> Prompts taken from [this list](http://esalvatore3.tumblr.com/post/142736314134/send-me-a-pairing-and-a-number-and-ill-write-you). Hit up [my ask box on Tumblr](http://esalvatore3.tumblr.com/ask); no promises, but I'm always on the lookout for prompts that get the plot bunnies hopping.


End file.
